Ships In The Night
by ozhawk
Summary: Okay, so I got asked for a Brock/Skye scene set before Agents of SHIELD begins. The premise is that Skye and Miles have a fight and she goes out and picks up a hot guy in a bar. I'm sorry, all right? It kind of got away from me and turned really kinky.


Skye dashed away hot tears, pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

 _Fuck Miles. Fuck him._

He never took her anywhere, always claiming poverty. And yes, they _were_ broke, living off the small amount she earned taking on occasional jobs fixing up the computers of people too stupid to install decent anti-virus software before downloading porn. Miles claimed such mundanity was beneath his talents, and she'd been too lovestruck to complain. Until this afternoon, when she'd been sorting the washing to take to the laundromat after she'd cooked dinner, had found a receipt for a swanky hotel bar in the pocket of his best jeans. When confronted, he'd tried to shrug it off, saying he'd needed to blow off steam, had just had a couple of drinks to relax. Which Skye might possibly have accepted if the receipt hadn't been itemised.

Somehow, she didn't think that the three Cosmopolitans had been drunk by her boyfriend. Sixty fucking dollars of the money _she'd_ worked to earn, spent on buying drinks for _another woman_!

So she'd grabbed her purse and stormed out, jumping in her van and just driving, ignoring her phone the first three times it rang and then grabbing it and switching it off before throwing it under the passenger seat.

She drove without really thinking about it, no fixed destination in mind. It wasn't until the fuel warning light flashed on the van's dashboard that she really paid attention; looked at her surroundings.

"Huh," Skye said aloud.

She was in her old neighbourhood, where she'd lived BM (Before Miles). Neon lights on a corner ahead made her smile. The club.

It had been her favourite hangout ever since she got her first fake ID and had been able to lie convincingly enough to be let in. Loud music and cheap drinks had been all she'd wanted, back then.

"What the hell. For old times' sake." There might even be one or two old friends there, and it wasn't until she thought that, that she realised Miles had slowly cut her off from her old social circle, wanting to be the centre of her existence, the only focus of her attention. "Fuck him," Skye growled to herself, pulling her van into the parking lot and shutting off the engine.

She didn't keep her whole wardrobe in the back, but there was enough to make do. A stretchy, glittery black dress she never wore because she and Miles never went out. Her black suede bootees with a little heel, perfect for dancing. A quick slick of lip gloss and some dramatic eyeshadow and she was done. She found her small clutch purse and shoved in her keys, lip gloss and the few dollars in cash she had with her; hesitated as she glanced towards the front seat. A quick check of her phone showed fifteen missed calls, all from Miles. Skye firmed her lips, switched the phone back off and threw it under the seat again.

It wasn't busy; there was only a short line outside the door. To her surprise, Skye recognised one of the bouncers, and his eyes widened as he saw her. He waved her to the front of the line immediately, high-fived her with a grin.

"Hey, Tobin!" she returned the smile happily.

"Ain't seen you around here in a while, girl."

"Ain't been around," she shrugged.

"Good to see you anyway. Go on in."

She tried to hand him the five-dollar entry fee, but he waved her off. "Beautiful girl like you, don't need no money here. Sure there'll be plenty of fellas to buy you drinks inside."

Smiling and shaking her head, Skye said "Ah yes, but then they might expect something in return."

"If they don't take no for an answer, I'll convince 'em different." Tobin clenched one meaty fist and gave her a wink. Laughing, Skye passed him and entered the club.

Inside, it was just as she remembered; loud and faintly seedy, bright lights flashing over a seething mass of humanity on the dance floor. Overcome by a wave of nostalgia, Skye grinned and waded in.

She danced with abandon, ignoring men who tried to dance with her, joining in with groups of girls who smiled at her with welcoming feminine solidarity if the men persisted. After about half an hour, hot and thirsty, she decided to take a break. She visited the bathroom first, jostled elbows at the mirror to refresh her lip gloss before heading upstairs to the upper bar, where it would be a little quieter and less crowded, and she might actually see someone she knew.

She bought herself a beer first, a Corona with a lime wedge in the bottle's long neck, poked the lime in with her finger before taking a long swig, sighing with pleasure as the coolness washed over her parched throat. Leaning on the bar she looked around for a long moment, scanning faces, a little disappointed not to see anyone familiar. Too late, she thought that she should have texted her friends, found out if any of them would like to meet up.

 _Oh well_. With her phone in the van, that wasn't happening now. Skye shrugged mentally and walked towards the balcony railing. She knew there was a big air vent there, it would be nice to stand there for a few minutes and cool off as she looked down at the dancing crowd below.

There was even a vacant space at the railing, no one either side for a good couple of feet. Skye stood, drinking her beer, letting the cool air wash over her.

"Buy you a drink?" a deep voice said in her ear.

"No thank you, I already got one," she said politely, lifting her beer and glancing around. She took a tiny nervous step back when she saw the man she'd just instinctively rejected; he was huge, even bigger than her bouncer friend, and while not unattractive he was mean-looking, with a jagged white scar from his lip to his chin and hard eyes.

"You sure?" the big guy pressed, moving closer, but then a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Lady said no, Jack."

Skye blinked as the big guy seemed to shrink into himself, nodded submissively and backed away, turning to look for easier prey. A minute later he approached two girls sitting on a couch, who looked at each other and giggled before nodding at him.

Looking back at her saviour, Skye found he was already leaning on the railing, looking away again. He was very attractive in profile, deep-set eyes and a strong chin, carefully groomed black hair. Not as tall as 'Jack', he still had to be around six foot and was powerfully built, compact muscle under his tight black T-shirt.

"Thanks," she said impulsively, lifting her beer in his direction.

Dark eyes flickered towards her, and he nodded. "You're welcome. Jack ain't good with rejection. Didn't want any trouble."

"He's a friend of yours?" Skye asked, glancing over to where Jack was now sitting between the two girls on the couch. They were both hanging on his shoulders, looking at him appreciatively. Well, as she'd thought, he wasn't unattractive. But Skye had looked in those flat eyes and seen a predator.

"He's on my team," was her response, making him look the black-haired man over again.

 _Military_ , was her conclusion eventually, and her first instinct was to sneer, Miles' attitude towards anything connected with the government a knee-jerk reaction. But then – it was _Miles_ who was the jerk. Skye smiled instead. "Well. Thanks again."

He just nodded, looking away and down at the dance floor again. Interest piqued, Skye studied him further. Black cargo pants, black boots polished to a high shine. Thick muscles swelling the sleeves of that tight T-shirt, black stubble on his jaw. It was hard to tell in the light but she suspected his skin was olivine, he looked Italian. He looked like some old Sicilian Mafia Don's enforcer, actually, the suggestion of leashed violence ready to explode without warning in the very stillness of that powerfully muscled form.

"Gettin' a good look there?" he said without looking at her, and Skye found herself blushing.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to stare," she offered, and found herself pinned by his eyes as he turned his head and trained the full intensity of his gaze on her.

"I'm sure a pretty girl like you don't lack for male attention, but you're a little too young and innocent for me."

He was probably in his forties, Skye reckoned, at least fifteen years her senior if not more. She still lifted her chin and glared at him indignantly. "I'm not innocent!" Innocence was lost early when you grew up in the foster system. She didn't regret it. At least it had been by her own choice, even if she was only fourteen at the time.

Finally, he turned to face her fully, stepped a little closer. Even though he wasn't as tall as Jack, he was more imposing, somehow, but Skye held her ground, lifted her chin. "Indeed," he said softly, his eyes raking her over swiftly. For a long moment they stood there facing each other silently, and then Skye smiled.

"I'm Skye."

He hesitated a moment before switching his beer bottle to his left hand and holding out his right. "Brock."

She put her hand in his; it was warm and dry, his grip firm. "Can I buy you a drink?" Skye nodded towards the empty beer bottle in his free hand.

Brock grinned suddenly, the expression transforming his face from ruggedly handsome to utterly gorgeous. Skye couldn't help but stare.

"That's new. Mostly it's me offering to buy girls drinks."

"Eh," Skye shrugged. "I'm a modern girl."

"So I see. Come dance with me," he requested abruptly.

"Okay." She'd only half-drunk her beer, but she set it down on a vacant table, accepted his offered hand.

Brock danced well, light on his feet and with a great sense of rhythm. He seemed to project a kind of aura as well, nobody even on the crowded dance floor bumped him or even invaded his space. Skye wasn't so lucky; someone cannoned into her after just a few minutes and she lurched forward – into the solid wall of Brock's chest.

Thickly muscled arms closed around her, and she looked up to find him glaring daggers at the hapless drunk who'd bumped her. Smoothly, Brock guided her off the floor, leading her around behind the main bar where it was a little quieter and they could hear each other speak.

"You all right?" he checked.

"Fine, it was just a bump," Skye shook her head, smiling.

"Idiot shoulda looked where he was going." One powerful arm remained around her, and the other came to rest on the wall beside her head now, pinning her in place. Skye wasn't objecting in the slightest. She smiled up at him and licked her lips, lowering her eyelashes seductively.

Brock's chest heaved with a quick indrawn breath, and then he bent his head, mouth seeking and hot over hers in a demanding kiss.

Certainly not innocent, still Skye had never been kissed like _that_ , as though he wanted to devour her. _Conquer_ her. Her hands came up to land on his ribs, twist her fingers in his tight shirt, and Brock growled in his throat, tongue thrusting into her mouth in a rough mimicry of sex.

Arousal had never hit so hard and so fast. Skye whined into Brock's mouth, and suddenly his hand was behind her knee, lifting it against his hip, his groin grinding against hers as his hard body pushed hers hard up against the wall. She was wet instantly, soaking through the thin fabric of her panties. His elbow hooked under her knee, calloused fingertips gliding along under her thigh, pressing suddenly and firmly over her core.

A low rumble sounded deep in Brock's core as he felt how wet her panties were, and suddenly he was pulling her away from the wall, opening a door she hadn't even noticed, and dragging her inside. Some kind of storeroom, Skye vaguely noticed, crates and boxes stacked around, before the door was closed and she was shoved up against it, Brock's hungry mouth descending on hers again. She panted with need, her hands clawing at his shirt, desperate to feel some skin. She managed to drag it up, put her hands on his back, felt smooth skin shifting over hard muscle.

"Fucking _hot_ ," Brock rasped against her neck, dipping his head to suck on her throat, and Skye really didn't give a fuck that he'd be leaving a mark.

"Please," was all she could manage, and he laughed huskily, his stubble rough on her sensitive neck.

"Don't worry, beautiful, gonna give it to ya." His hand was lifting her knee again and she moaned, hooking her leg around his waist eagerly as strong fingers groped at her panties. She squealed a moment later as he ripped them away with a sharp twist of his wrist.

"Shut the fuck up, you're fucking loving it," he muttered roughly, and Skye couldn't even gasp a denial, because it was so utterly true. Two thick fingers plunged deep suddenly and she cried out ecstatically. His thumb rubbed hard over her clit and her hands clutched at his muscled arms as she shuddered.

"Uhhh," she moaned.

"Say my name. Brock. Say it."

"B-Brock," she panted as his fingers pumped hard. " _Please_."

"Good girl, you _are_ a good little girl, aren't you?" He licked and sucked at her neck, his free hand tugging down the neck of her dress, pushing down her bra cup, wrapping around her breast and squeezing.

She'd never even imagined anything like this. Not even when she and Miles had a make-up-after-a-fight-fuck was it _anything_ like this rough and dirty and _amazingly good_. The orgasm hit like a tidal wave and Skye's whole body shuddered, juices slicking Brock's hand to the wrist.

"Mm," he withdrew his hand, licked at his fingers, eyed Skye as she slumped back against the wall. "Lovely. Over here, beautiful."

She was almost boneless as he moved her, leading her over to a low table in the corner of the storeroom, bending her over it and pushing her skirt up her thighs, unfastening his pants and taking his cock out. Pulling his wallet from his pocket he found a condom and rolled it on, stroking his cock as he gazed at her slender legs and rounded bottom, at the shiny trails of slick on her inner thighs.

"You're fuckin' gorgeous," he muttered hoarsely. "Gonna fuck you senseless."

Skye could only whimper and clutch at the far edge of the table as he pushed slowly in. It seemed to take forever, he was bigger than she was used to, longer and thicker, and by the time his groin was pressing against her ass she was yelping and panting frantically.

"Such a sweet tight little pussy," Brock's breath was hot at the back of her neck as he bent over her, and then he straightened up, gathering her hair in one of his hands, the other one grasping firmly onto her hip.

There was no lock on the door, someone could have walked in at any moment and found them, and somehow that made it even more titillating as Brock began to pump inside her, balls-deep one moment and almost completely withdrawing the next before slamming back hard to full depth. His hand in her hair pulled slowly, a remorseless tug that kept her back arched and her head up, and that little pain, combined with the absolutely perfect angle he'd somehow managed to achieve inside her, drove Skye wild. Her nails scored at the tabletop, hoarse cries spilling from her lips as his rough thrusts jarred her whole body.

"That's it," Brock snarled behind her, and he took his hand off her hip and slapped her outer thigh sharply as he thrust back in the next time. Tight muscles convulsed around him, and he grinned wickedly. "Like that, do you, beautiful?" He did it again, a little harder, and Skye came with a helpless wail. A few more harsh thrusts and Brock came too, stilling and groaning deep in his chest, his hips pinning her down to the tabletop.

Slowly, his grip on her hair eased, letting her head down, and Skye put her forehead on the table and took deep, shuddering breaths. She felt him pull out, heard the wet slurp of the condom being removed, the hiss of his zipper.

"Hey," Brock reached out, smoothed Skye's dress back down gently, pulled her up to her feet and turned her round. The top of her dress was still displaced and he fixed it for her, put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "You all right, Skye?"

She looked a little shocky, her pupils dilated, and he wondered suddenly if she'd actually gone into subspace. The very thought made him start to feel aroused again, and he pulled her close, making her lean her head against his chest, cuddling her tenderly, humming soothingly under his breath, stroking her hair.

"I ain't finished with you yet, beautiful," he said softly when he finally felt her relax against him. "We're staying in a hotel just on the next block. Will you come there with me?"

She nodded against his chest.

"Is there anyone you need to let know?"

Shake of her head, and then she looked up at him, biting her lip. "I probably shouldn't have told you that. Please don't be a serial killer?"

He chuckled quietly. "I promise I'll let you go alive."

"Oh good."

His hand was gentle as he smoothed her tangled hair, and then he slipped his phone from the thigh pocket of his cargo pants, tapped in a quick text message as they walked to the door. Brock didn't look around as they left the club, just confidently leading Skye out.

"Hey, Skye, off so soon?" Tobin said amiably as she walked out, giving Brock side-eye.

"Yeah, catch ya next time!" Skye deliberately made her voice bright and cheery, offering her hand for a high-five, knowing Tobin wouldn't hesitate to try and stop them if he suspected Skye might have been roofied. And while she knew the big bouncer could handle himself, some deep instinct warned her that he – and his colleagues – would be utterly outmatched against Brock.

Tobin high-fived her with a nod and a smile before returning his attention to the waiting line. Brock slipped his arm around Skye's waist and drew her in close. She debated for a moment going to her van to get her phone – but no, fuck it, there'd just be a bunch more missed calls from Miles, and she really didn't want to think about him right now.

There was a Seven-Eleven on the corner, and Brock led Skye in with a murmur of "Need more condoms!" that made her grin. Remembering she hadn't ended up having any dinner, she paused in front of the donut case.

"Hungry?" Brock came up behind her, basket swinging from his fingers, several bottles of neon-coloured energy drinks in it. His arm slid around her waist again, his face pressing into her neck, stubble lightly rasping her skin. "When did you last eat?"

"I had some leftover fried rice for lunch," she admitted sheepishly, and he sighed and shook his head.

"You're gonna need more energy than that, beautiful." His voice was a low, dark promise that made Skye shiver against him. "Get a donut, and they've got wraps and sandwiches too, pick one…" he walked away again, collected some trail bars and chocolate, and came back. Skye had picked a salad wrap and a donut, and Brock took them from her and carried them to the register. The bored cashier rang up the purchases and bagged them, and a minute later they were on their way again, the bag swinging from Brock's free hand.

The hotel had apparently had a renovation since Skye moved out of the area; it looked quite upscale now. Brock had a large room on one of the higher floors; she moved to the window and looked out over the bright city lights as he put the _Do Not Disturb_ sign out and closed the door behind them.

"Second thoughts?" his voice was low behind her.

"No." She turned back around, looked up at him with clear eyes.

"Good. But I ain't touching you again until you've eaten, so have a seat." He pointed at the small table.

Skye sat obediently and he put the salad wrap and a bottle of something blue in front of her. She raised her eyebrows at it.

"Electrolytes," Brock said succinctly, "you're gonna need them." He cracked a bottle of something green for himself, took a long swig. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you're gonna make a run for it, that's your opportunity."

She never even considered it. Just sat and ate her wrap, drank the blue stuff – which wasn't as disgusting as it looked – while he was in the bathroom. She'd finished and was sitting back, quietly sipping the last of the drink, when he came out, a towel wrapped around his waist, and Skye dropped the bottle. Fortunately there were only a few drops left in it and none spilled out.

"Holy shit!"

In his tight T-shirt, it had been pretty obvious that Brock was well-built. Now she saw the truth of it, and her eyes opened wide, because he was just _perfect_. Not the artificiality of a body-builder, but the sheer power of a man who'd earned his muscles through hard work and sweat.

He smirked down at her, and she totally failed to resist the urge to lick off a droplet of water trickling slowly down the cleft between his thick pectoral muscles. Brock sighed as her tongue trailed over his skin, and then his hand knotted in her hair.

"Did I give you permission to do that?"

Skye blinked, her brows drawing down in confusion.

Brock tilted his head curiously. "Do you even know?"

"Know what?" she said, puzzled.

"Skye…" he hesitated. "I thought you were a sub. A submissive. I'm a Dom – I thought – _fuck_."

Skye flushed. "I don't – I haven't ever..."

He was watching her closely. "Does the idea excite you?"

Mutely, she gave a tiny nod, her eyelashes sweeping down.

"You already trusted me with a great deal. You let me be rough with you, and I _know_ you enjoyed it." Gently, he put his fingertips under her chin, made her look up at him. "Trust me again, Skye. Let me show you what you are. You were born for this."

She chewed on her lip silently, uncertain. Brock sighed. "Why are you here?"

"Wh-what?"

"You're running from something. Trying to forget something. What is it?"

 _Goddamn, he's perceptive_ , Skye thought, a little stunned. "My boyfriend," she confessed. "I think – he cheated on me. Or tried to."

Brock nodded slowly. "Yeah, I bet he did." Then, when she looked offended, he sighed, moved to sit in the chair, pulled gently on Skye's hand until she sat, a little nervously, in his lap. "Look, I could give you the standard platitudes, that he'd be stupid to cheat on a girl as beautiful as you, blah blah blah. That's what everyone else will say and it still won't make any sense. You want my theory?"

Curious now, Skye shrugged. "Sure."

"You're a born sub, and you don't even know. Which means that he isn't Dom enough for you. He might be bossy and a bit domineering – yeah, thought so," when Skye's eyes widened. "But he ain't a Dom. Which means that you aren't getting what you _need_. And that means you aren't truly satisfied, and if in any relationship one partner isn't truly satisfied, the other one won't be either. _That's_ why he's looking outside for satisfaction."

Skye sat still, her thoughts whirling. Brock nuzzled lightly at her shoulder. "You know I'm right, don't you?" he said softly, his voice a low, growling rasp. "It's why you're here. Why you let me fuck you. It wasn't _about_ getting your own back for his cheating. You knew the moment you looked at me that I could give you what you need. The way _he_ never has. The way _no-one_ ever has, unless I miss my guess."

Her cheeks slowly reddened, and she nodded. "Maybe – maybe you're right." He was certainly correct that she'd taken one look at him and not been able to look away.

He smiled, bit at her shoulder gently. "I'm not so Dom as to insist that I'm _always_ right. But – yeah. I'm right."

That made her giggle, and he put his arm around her waist to hold her more firmly. "So – what happens if I trust you, then?" Skye flicked her eyes sideways to meet his, shy but unafraid. "I mean, I've read _Fifty Shades_ …"

"Oh shit, forget all that. That guy's a creep and a fucking terrible Dom, gives us _real_ Doms a bad name," Brock shook his head.

That made Skye grin. "He did seem rather… _contradictory_."

"And not overly concerned with consent, either. About the only thing he got right was the safeword, even if he failed to respect it." Brock kissed her shoulder again. "So let's start there, hmm? You okay with the traffic light system? Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop?"

"Yes," Skye nodded in agreement.

"I don't have time to do much. I wish I did, wish I'd got time to explore everything with you, to show you what you're capable of, but I have to leave in the morning."

Unreasonably disappointed, she was about to ask why, but… _Military_. He couldn't tell her, even if he wanted to, she guessed, so she just nodded. "Okay."

"I'd need more equipment, too – it doesn't matter. We don't have it, so we'll start with the small stuff, yeah?"

"Sounds good," Skye agreed.

"All right." He nudged at her gently. "The first thing you'll learn is that you _must_ obey when I use my Dom voice, okay? You'll know when I do."

"Okay," she said uncertainly, and then she jumped as his voice did indeed change, becoming flatter and harder, lower-pitched, almost a snarl.

"Get up."

Skye shot to her feet instinctively, earning an approving smile from Brock.

"Good girl. Now turn around and take your boots off. Slowly. Give me a show."

She understood what he meant. Considering she had no panties – God only knew where they'd ended up when he ripped them off earlier – her skirt would ride up a long way when she bent down. Turning around, she bent at the waist, keeping her knees straight, and bent slowly, glancing at him between her legs.

"That's it," Brock murmured encouragingly, watching as Skye unzipped her boots, removed them both slowly. It was summer and her long slender legs were bare, tanned. "Hitch your skirt up for me as you come up."

She did it slowly, pulling the tight fabric up, stopping as she felt the hem touch her buttocks.

"Shuffle forward and put your hands on the bed."

Obeying, she flinched in sudden horror as she heard the click of a camera phone. "No! Red!"

"Okay." He lowered the phone. "Come here and look. Your face isn't visible. Your own mother wouldn't know you. But delete it, if you want. I just wanted something to remember you by."

She hesitated, looking at the image, her finger poised over the _Delete_ icon. It was incredibly revealing, pornographic – but he was absolutely correct that she wasn't recognisable. Finally she handed the phone back. "No. You can keep it. But please don't share it, and please don't take any more?"

"Of course." He put the phone on the table, sliding it away. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want, beautiful," Brock said softly as she looked at it warily. "This is about trust, remember?"

"I remember." Uncertain what to do now, she stood still and waited.

Brock watched her for a moment, before nodding. "Okay. Good job using the safe word. Don't forget it, now. I'm not going to do anything without your full and enthusiastic consent, all right? I'm sorry I didn't think to ask your permission before taking a picture. I promise I won't take any more."

Skye nodded, relaxing a little more.

"Now," Brock dropped back into his Dom voice, "on your knees."

She would have obeyed that voice even if he hadn't commanded her to; something deep within her _recognised_ it. Her knees hit the carpet almost before her brain processed the command.

"Do you like sucking cock, Skye?" his voice was soft again.

She thought about lying; in the end shrugged. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"What did I just say about _enthusiastic_ consent?" He shook his head at her. "Your bossy idiot of a boyfriend just shoves it down your throat, doesn't he?"

She hung her head, wondering how the _hell_ he could read her so well. "I don't like it in my throat," Skye admitted, barely audibly. "I can't breathe and I don't like that."

"Okay." He unfolded the towel at his waist, spread it back, parted his knees. "Why don't you show me what you _do_ like to do?"

Her eyes widened as she got her first look at his cock. No wonder she'd felt full back in the club; he was _big_ , thick and long, neatly cut, rising from a nest of crisp black curls, only half hard right now but still sizeable.

He was beautiful, and Skye felt her mouth start to water. Swallowing, she moved forward on her knees, kneeling between his feet. Reached her hand out tentatively.

"Just your mouth," Brock said in his Dom voice, "put your hands behind your back." More softly, he said "See if you can get me hard with just your mouth. Just the way you like to do it."

She nodded, looking up at him trustingly from wide brown eyes, and Brock smiled wryly. "Looking at me like that you probably don't even _need_ your mouth, beautiful."

Skye smiled shyly, turned her head to nuzzle against his muscled thigh. Held his gaze as she flicked her tongue lightly against his skin, tasting him. He tasted fresh and clean, hot water and soap, a faint masculine tang under that. Slowly she trailed her tongue in patterns up his thigh until she was nuzzling at his balls, flicking her tongue in delicate little swipes, before dragging it in one long lick right up the length of his shaft, swirling it around the tip.

"Mm," Brock's hand slid into her hair, and Skye tensed instinctively. Miles always held onto her hair when he wanted to fuck her throat – but Brock wasn't holding on, was stroking her hair, petting her like a cat, his breathing slow and easy. After a moment she began again, caressing his cock with her lips and tongue, mouthing the tip briefly before working back down again.

"Good girl," Brock said, and Skye realised he was indeed fully hard again. Pleased, she wrapped her lips around his tip, tongued the frenulum quickly as she bobbed her head in short little strokes. She could feel herself getting wet between her thighs too, shifted a little uncomfortably. She'd be dripping on the carpet in a minute.

"Oh, good, you're gooood," Brock sighed, still stroking her hair. "Mmmm. Lovely. All right, stop, beautiful."

Teasingly, she sucked a little harder, her cheeks hollowing.

"I said _stop_." It was the Dom voice, and Skye froze, hastily pulling off.

"I'm sorry…"

"Sshh," he caressed her hair again, curved his hand under her chin and lifted her face, making her look at him. "I'm not gonna be harsh with you, since it's your first time as a sub. When you get your own Dom, you'll understand; you won't _want_ to disobey, whether they use a Dom voice or not."

"I don't want to disobey _you_ ," Skye admitted. "I just want to please you."

He smiled, getting to his feet, towering over her where she still knelt on the floor. "Excellent," he purred. "I'm happy to hear that. Up you get, then, and take your dress off for me."

She stood at once, caught the hem of her dress and peeled it upwards, bringing the stretchy material up over her body and tugging it off over her head, leaving herself wearing only her bra.

Brock licked his lips. "That too," he said quietly, smiled as Skye immediately unclipped and removed the bra. "Very nice." He prowled around her slowly, surveying her. "Very, very nice." He trailed a finger up her spine from the cleft of her buttocks to the nape of her neck, his smile widening as she shuddered slightly. Leaning in behind her, he kissed her neck just below her ear, caught her earlobe in his teeth for a little nip. "Ever had your bottom spanked before, little girl?" He patted one rounded buttock lightly.

"N-no." She let out a little squeal of shock as she was suddenly grabbed around the waist by a powerful arm, yanked off her feet and placed across his lap as he sat back down on the chair and positioned her ass-upward, both hands held at the small of her back in one of his, her head hanging down towards the floor.

"Give me a colour, Skye." His free hand smoothed over her bottom.

It took a moment for her to realise what he meant. "Green," she panted.

"Good; you remember that. Tell me if at any point it becomes not green, all right?"

"Y-yes."

"Slow your breathing. Steady. You won't get the endorphin release if you don't relax into it." His voice was low and soothing, his hand gentle as he swept his hand in long strokes from her lower back down to her upper thighs, and Skye found her breathing slowing in response to his order. _In. Out. In. Out_. She concentrated on slow, deep breaths, and was relaxing into an almost meditative state when the first strike landed on her right ass cheek. Her breath hitched in a gasp.

Brock's hand resumed the slow, soothing strokes. "Colour."

"Green." It was _more_ than all right. The pain had seemed to radiate through her, transmuting to heat and arousal somewhere along the way. Her nipples were aching, her pussy leaking. "More. Please."

Her answer was a low, husky laugh, and then he struck again, a little lower. The spanks were firm but not hard; it was obvious to Skye that he wasn't using all his strength by any means, but the flat of his hand stung and she was sure her bottom would be red. She couldn't bring herself to care.

"What a good little girl," Brock murmured, after he'd delivered ten smacks. He admired the red marks, livid on her pale skin. "But what a _dirty_ little girl. I can feel you, you know. Leaking on my leg."

Skye squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed.

"Smell you, too. You smell _delicious_." Her thighs were a little apart, forced there by the way he was holding her, and his hand slipped between them, fingers stroking slowly, and she could hear the wet sound they made. His forefinger circled over her clit, and she moaned helplessly, but then he took it away and she heard him lick at them. "You do taste good. Yes, I think I'll feast here tonight."

Brock's voice was low and dark, a threat and a promise in the statement making Skye shudder again. And then he scooped her up like a rag doll and tossed her onto the bed. She landed on her back with a shocked squeak, and he was after her in an instant, pushing her legs apart and lifting her hips, pushing two pillows under them to lift her ass up in the air.

"Bend your knees, put your feet on the mattress," he ordered, "yes, that's right."

She was spread wide open, completely exposed. Brock knelt on the end of the bed, looking down at her. "Play with your tits," he ordered, "pinch those nipples, get them nice and hard. Pity I ain't got any clamps for you."

Skye had always enjoyed rough play with her sensitive nipples, but she'd never even _thought_ of clamps. Her lips parted on a gasp as she pinched at the sensitive nubs, her eyes locked with Brock's as he watched her.

"Good," he purred, and then keeping his eyes on hers, he leaned down and licked a long, slow stripe from her opening to her clit, before pressing both his thumbs lightly on her clit, rolling the hood back, making his tongue into a point and teasing over it.

Skye bit down, hard, on her lip to try and make herself be quiet. Miles always told her she was too noisy ( _your moaning's fucking distracting, like a fucking tennis player,_ he'd say) but Brock lifted his head. "Don't do that," he said thickly. "Lemme hear you. I want to hear you come apart."

She hesitated, but he was staring at her, so after a moment she unclenched her jaw, let her lips part – and he licked her clit again. Her legs trembled as he kept going, soft breathy moans she barely recognized as her own escaping her mouth, rising in pitch to needy whimpers whenever he drifted away from where she _needed_ his mouth to be. She felt him grin against her for a moment before he moved back up a little and _sucked_ on her clit, hard. Skye arched off the bed with a wail that caught in her throat, gripping the sheets to keep from covering her mouth.

Brock didn't stop, kept going even after she'd arched and shrieked her way through a climax, kept working her clit even though she was at a fever pitch of sensitivity. It hurt, a little bit, and twice he stopped briefly and asked her for a colour.

Skye never considered saying anything but "Green. Oh God, yes, it's green, _please…_ "

"You beg real pretty," he muttered gruffly before burying his face in her again. This time, though, his teeth grazed her clit, tongue and fingers stroking up between her labia before two thick fingers thrust sharply inside her.

Skye's knees shook. She was still playing with her breasts, tugging hard on her nipples now, roughly squeezing them in her fingertips. Brock made a pleased rumbling sound against her, pulled off for a moment to look down at her, spread out and vulnerable.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured, and dealt a sharp little slap to her clit.

Skye screamed, jack-knifing upright, her head falling back with ecstasy. "More!" she begged frantically, and he laughed huskily and did it again.

"Oh oh _ohhhhhhhh_!" Skye's scream was extremely loud as she convulsed, the orgasm massive as it ripped through her, leaving her shaking and panting for breath.

Brock laughed quietly, reaching for a condom. "You _are_ a noisy little thing. I like it."

She could barely function, certainly not resist when he moved off the bed and pulled her to the edge of it, turning her over, placing a pillow under her hips. "Want a good fucking, little girl?" his voice was low in her ear as he bent over her. "I think you do."

"Please," Skye whimpered as she felt his cock pushing at her.

"Real wet, aren't you? You liked that. You like being a dirty little girl for teacher, hey?"

"Yes, sir," she gasped out as he plunged in, fast and hard. "Oh God, sir, yes, please, teach me a lesson…"

"Gonna teach you a lesson all right, little girl. Gonna teach you what happens to naughty little girls who pick up men in nightclubs." He wasn't even breathing hard as he fucked roughly into her, Skye's fingers clawing at the sheets. Strong hands clamped on her hips eliminated any possibility of her getting away, not that she wanted to; it felt too good, the drag and glide of his thrusts rubbing over exquisitely sensitive flesh.

One muscled forearm curled under her then, supporting her and holding her steady while he continued to pump, the other slid down her spine and in between them… Skye cried out in shock as a thick finger probed at her ass.

"You're gonna like this," Brock grunted, finally sounding a little breathless himself. "Gonna like this a lot, naughty girl. Only a pity I haven't got a dildo or something else to fuck you with while I take your ass. Have to make do with this, do you like this?"

She couldn't answer, lost for words, screaming incoherently into the mattress as his finger pressed deeper. She heard his dry, husky laugh again, and then there was a _second_ finger and she lost contact with reality entirely.

Brock groaned as Skye tightened around him, felt a gush of wetness over his fingers. He'd been sternly holding himself in check, no longer saw any need as her body went completely limp under him, so allowed himself free rein. A few rough strokes later and he was coming too, his vision darkening briefly as he pumped himself dry in the little sub's body.

What a gorgeous little thing she was, he thought, pulling out finally, stroking her back. She'd blacked out, he suspected, took the time to gently arrange her in bed before going to dispose of the condom and checking his watch. Three-thirty. He and his team were moving on out at six. Oh well, a couple of hours sleep was better than none at all, especially with his body still humming with satisfaction.

Setting his watch for a five-thirty alarm, Brock quietly moved around the room picking things up and tidying them before slipping into bed beside Skye. She curled towards him, putting her head on his chest with a small sigh, and he stiffened.

 _Oh well, no harm in it for one night_ , he thought finally. And she was a sweet little thing. He certainly hadn't expected to get _this_ lucky. Shame they were moving on out and he wouldn't see her again. Some other lucky Dom would get the benefit of all that sweetness, that shy eagerness to please.

Brock wrapped his arm around Skye's shoulders and pulled her a little closer. Her cool breath flowed across his chest and he decided it was oddly soothing. Not that he could get used to the sensation or anything. Smiling wryly at his own folly, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

Skye woke cold and alone, her clothes neatly folded on the chair, no sign that there had ever even been anyone else in the room with her save for the rumpled bed and the musky scent of sex still hanging in the air. Feeling small and very alone, she wrapped herself in the sheet and looked around. There was a sheet of hotel stationery lying in the middle of the table, just a few words scribbled on it in a spiky, masculine hand.

 _Look me up if you ever get to Washington, D.C._

 _Brock_

There was a string of numbers after that she recognised as a phone number. With a thoughtful smile, Skye picked the paper up and folded it up into a tiny square.

 _Who knows_ , she thought. _Maybe I will make it to D.C. one day._

 **As always, I love to hear from readers! Please let me know what you thought!**

 **(When you get out of that cold shower, that is…)**


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